


pretty like a bullet

by copperiisulfate



Category: No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mob, Guns, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 12:54:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2151468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperiisulfate/pseuds/copperiisulfate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the moment Nezumi first saw him, he'd wanted to tell him to run. If he had known better, he would have ran instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pretty like a bullet

**Author's Note:**

> cleaned-up version of an ancient meme-fill in response to a prompt for qserasera on tumblr.

Nezumi fell in with the mob because it was the only way to survive. Shion, on the other hand, sauntered into it, with a smile and a wave and a dogged claim that he was looking for a friend, trying to save her.

From the moment Nezumi first saw him, he'd wanted to tell him to  _run_. If he had known better, he would have ran instead.

* 

The thing—the really fascinating but fucked up thing—is that he’s quick with the trigger, quicker than he has any right to be, with his kind eyes and a smile like a waxing moon. Nezumi does not learn this the first time he’s foolish enough to think he can teach Shion how to hold a gun.

(Shion lets him do _that_  with far too much ease, lets Nezumi put his arms around him and hands around and over his while he eases his grip on the cool metal, something Nezumi had mistaken for hesitation at the time.)

Instead, Nezumi learns it on an autumn night, calls him out on it as he unzips his dress and throws it on the chair—misses—and rolls his eyes as it lands on the carpet. He wipes off his make-up and it's like coming out of costume, relaxes only when he’s left in his underwear, face clean save for small smears by his eyes and hair in a knot. Shion’s eyes on him through the process do not go ignored.

They can fit maybe three hours of sleep before they have to move from the room they rented for the job now that the job is done; Shion had been the one to finish it no less, and Nezumi feels like the the air is all wrong, feels—on edge.

"You lied," he tells Shion, but is impressed in spite of himself. There was never any one particular lie. And even if, it was mostly by omission. Nezumi had just assumed, and assumed far too much, it seemed.

There are two beds in this room but Shion climbs up on the one where Nezumi is sitting cross-legged. Shion makes himself comfortable on it and sets his head on the pillow. He’s fully dressed save for his jacket and shoes and he’s still watching Nezumi with that naked, unnerving look, like he can see through Nezumi’s translucent skin and past his bones.

"Not really." Shion says it in the same breath as, "You’re beautiful, you know that?"

Nezumi exhales through his nose, wants to throttle him a little. “You can’t just say shit like that an hour after—” after taking a life, he thinks, “…after something like that.”

"It was a good shot, wasn’t it? I learned from the best."

"Bullshit," Nezumi hisses, "That wasn’t your first time," and he says it like a statement, a fact, rather than a question. And the thing—the really fucked up thing—is that Nezumi lies down beside him anyway, and wants to do it all over again.

 


End file.
